


Afterglow

by margaeries



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 18:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/margaeries/pseuds/margaeries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fate had ordained that she find Ichabod, and he knew her completely. There was nowhere to hide when you were both Witnesses to the Seven Years of Tribulation. Luke could never have had that, and it would not be fair then, to see how he and Ichabod matched up in their bids to win her heart and love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afterglow

Sweat-soaked bodies, hearts racing, voices trembling as you tried to get your breathing back to normal; Abbie cherished these little moments after making love, when you were not done discovering each other and sought out comfort in the other’s arms. With Ichabod, it was no different, and she loved to lie there close to him, watching his reactions. It was so satisfying to see the way she could make him come undone, with her body and hands and mouth. And then, the way he tried to compose himself once more, his bright eyes wide and wild in the orange glow of the streetlights that spilled in through the open curtains.

She traced the hard lines of his body with her fingertips, wishing to commit him to her memory. He shivered beneath her touch and she marvelled at the way he responded to her, always so sensual and lively, and ready to _feel_. Ichabod was a physical person, a foil to her more cerebral self. It had taken some getting used to, all the instances of personal space-invading, the constant way he spoke of the two of them together, the long, lusty gazes he used to hold her stare. Eventually she had started dreaming of him, so that even in sleep, she could not escape the strength of their unusual bond.

Abbie had never been one for soft touches and warm embraces, although deep down she had wanted to be. She was a woman with a lot of love to give, and some difficulty in convincing the world of that very fact. With Luke, there had been tenderness and care, and she had started to feel like her life was finally becoming what she considered ‘normal’. But even she could not deny that she was keeping a part of herself closed off to him. In matters of the heart, she was afraid to commit, scared that one day her partner would discover everything there was to know about her, and her semblance of normality would be forever destroyed, taken from her like she believed it deserved to be.

It felt wrong to compare Luke to her fellow Witness. It was not fair to him, or to her memories of him, which were mostly happy and full of fond little moments. He had been an attentive lover, a considerate partner; his only real downfall was his obstinate belief that he should be able to protect her from every dark thing in the world, that she should be constantly shielded from such dangers. If only he had known then, the darkness that lay within her heart, would he have been so sure that she needed saving?

You couldn't run from yourself, and Luke would never understand that.

But fate had ordained that she find Ichabod, and he knew her completely. There was nowhere to hide when you were both Witnesses to the Seven Years of Tribulation. Luke could never have had that, and it would not be fair then, to see how he and Ichabod matched up in their bids to win her heart and love.

Her hand had stopped trailing his skin and was now resting on his chest, and though he was on the verge of sleep, he had noticed. He noticed everything, and sometimes it startled her, the way he saw her so clearly. With reverence, always with a gentle reverence, he took her small hand and brought it to his lips, so that he could kiss each fingertip, his beard tickling her skin.

She smiled hazily as her thoughts became unravelled once more. Ichabod had a way of commanding all of her attention. She would never admit it to him, but secretly she didn't mind. It was nice to feel wanted, needed, and especially, _desired_. He struck that perfect balance between treating her gently and with the utmost care and almost-worship, to knowing that she was capable and strong and able to lead. It had gone easier than she had expected, what with his 18th Century ideals, but she found that, where she was concerned, Ichabod was always willing to learn and make new allowances extremely quickly.

“Care to share some of your thoughts? I can feel when your mind is preoccupied elsewhere. What troubles you, Abbie?” His voice was low and heavy with sleep, but it still made her stomach flutter at the tone of it, a man fulfilled and content with his lot.

Uncannily, he had picked up on her mood, as he was wont to do, to read every nuance of flickering emotion. She wondered how she had lived so long without this level of connection, without having someone who could look at her and gaze into her very soul with the same stare.

“Nothing you need to trouble yourself with. Get some sleep, Ichabod, we’re needed way too early to be discussing the inner contents of my brain.” Of course she would not say that she had been thinking about Luke. Living alone had taught Abbie the value of silence and when it was needed.

Though their relationship was so novel to her, being one based completely on honesty and transparency, Abbie did not think her partner would appreciate being compared to her ex. Ichabod always tried his hardest to be polite and civil to the other man, but he had a weakness when it came to Abbie. He was rather selfish when it came to her affections; he wanted her all to himself. She supposed it was partly borne from waking up two hundred years later and having no one other than her to believe his tale, or to help him come to terms with the strange new world in which he had found himself. He had clung to her completely, and he wasn’t always willing to be without her. Their co-dependency issues would have to be sorted sooner or later, because she was often scared by how much they needed each other, but for now, Abbie was okay with it. She hated being so reliant on another person, but the Bible itself had decreed they come together to fight the four horsemen; you couldn't resist that level of partnership, dare she say, or the way their bond had been foretold.

Ichabod had already dozed off by this point, while she mulled over the intricacies of their joining, but his hand still loosely gripped hers. So she lay her head gently on his chest, listening to his heart beat steadily, and waited for sleep to come to her, feeling safe and secure in the knowledge that whatever happened come the morning, they would have each other.

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's very introspective and navel-gazing, and nothing really happens at all, but it was begging to be written! Set somewhere in the future, when this pair's agonising slow-burn attraction comes to a head, but their relationship is new enough for Abbie to still think kindly on Luke.


End file.
